Beautiful Dreamers
by NicoleMuenchSeidel
Summary: Beginning on Belle's 18th birthday, many years before they meet, Belle and Rumple from time to time share dreams, unknowing that the other exists in reality. This fic is inspired by the "Beautiful" prompt for the RumBelle Creative Project for the "RumBellers" Facebook group. Rating T Plus
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: This chapter is shorter than typical for me, but I want to have a separate chapter to reflect a bit on Belle's life before jumping fully into the dreams. The dreams will start in earnest in chapter 2, which is mostly written. This is written with great respect, love and gratitude for the talents of Robert Carlyle and Emilie de Ravin. I do not own the OUAT characters.**

* * *

Belle's eighteenth birthday held no great joy for her. It had been five years since her mother's death... five years since their heart to heart talks that Belle cherished. For her special day, Belle received presents that were well intended, a couple of which were books from the few people who actually seemed to be aware of her passions and surprisingly cared. However, there was an emptiness too. She missed her mother terribly, because her mother had truly _seen_ Belle as she was, not as others wanted her to be, and she loved Belle not despite her idiosyncrasies, but because of them. For Belle's mother, Gabrielle, it was those idiosyncrasies that made Belle a rare and beautiful flower. However, her father didn't view Belle the same way. Belle supposed he loved her in his own way... distant, controlling way, but she could always see the muscles in his jaw pulse as she seemed to endlessly irritate him with her unorthodox thinking and behavior.

For Belle's birthday, there was a ball, as there has been for many birthdays. To call it a ball seemed a misnomer as it seemed more like a cattle auction to Belle... with her as the prized breeding cow. Instead of manure, there was the smell of sweaty men of various ages, doused in cologne with whom she had to dance and feign enjoying inane conversation. Whether a man was twenty or fifty, they all spoke _at her_ , not to her and seemed to have little regard for her mind.

" _Honestly, where does my father dig them up?"_

As the years have past with these balls, the men have become more blatant about their interest in her, but tonight's ball, left nothing to be questioned about their motives, as several men seemed to be trying to conduct a conversation with her breasts. She wondered if the men would even notice if she were headless. Indeed, Belle started to question whether they actually expected her bosom to give a lecture on the state of the regional economies.

" _That would be a nifty trick."_

The worst of them was Sir Gaston, a superficial knight, much like her father. He indeed was like a bull in a shop full of porcelain figurines, as he stepped on her feet repeatedly, oblivious to the fact as he droned on about himself. Clearly, he had already found his true love: himself, and he just wanted someone with soft curves to be his plaything... and to produce him many sons, likely all as obnoxious as he. The only saving grace was that Belle's father, Sir Maurice, had promised her mother on her deathbed, that Belle would decide if, when, and whom to marry. Though Belle had some nagging concerns that her father might not honor that promise, to date he had, though it noticeably pained him. Belle knew he was anxious to marry off his odd daughter and preferably form a beneficial alliance with the groom's family. His favorite was undoubtedly Gaston.

" _If Papa fancies Gaston so much, he can marry the clot-pole."_

* * *

Now, in her bedchamber as Belle sits clad in her white dressing gown brushing her dark chestnut, softly curled hair, she recalls the nights that her mother would brush her hair as Belle talked about her day, books she'd read, secrets she'd only share with her mother and dreams for the future. As the emptiness inside Belle makes her heart feel more like a rock within her chest than flesh and blood, she hears strange sounds coming from the window... scratching and cooing. Through the glass, she spies a most unusual carrier dove with wings with iridescent blue and gold highlights on the feathers. Taking great care, Belle opens the window attempting not to startle the unique creature nor knock it of its perch. It comes to her without hesitation as though they are kin. She holds the bird in her hands, tenderly stroking its head. Seating herself, she lays the bird upon her lap and removes a scroll attached to its leg. Her nurturing touch continues after she's revealed the note inside. There is something about this bird that makes Belle feel at peace... more at peace than she's felt in years. Belle begins to read the note written in handwriting that is eternally familiar to her.

 _My sweet, precious Belle,_

 _On this the anniversary of your birth,_

 _I wish you the most glorious of birthdays_

 _and for your path to happiness to be clear._

 _You are my greatest treasure and achievement._

 _I'll love you forever, my beautiful flower._

 _Momma_

 _PS. Sweet dreams, dear one._

Tears flow unhindered from Belle's eyes of iolite casting a multi-toned, purplish-blue glow befitting the most sought after of jewels. Her tears trail down her cheeks like a soft rain dripping onto the very unique dove that she has been petting. The dove begins to dissolve from Belle's vision, and her heart aches, as Belle is not ready to say 'goodbye' to her. Though Belle had not checked the gender of the dove, she feels that the dove is female... possibility a very specific female presence in her life. As the dove's last remnants fade from view, Belle feels exhausted... more exhausted than she's ever felt. She walks wobbly-legged over to her bed, placing her mother's note on the nightstand, snuggles beneath the warm blankets and is pulled into a deep sleep.

* * *

 _Moments later, Belle is riding her horse through the pasture on a pristine sunny day. The horse, who was named Philippe by her father, Belle prefers to call 'Fire Heart', as her father's choice seems too pretentious and not befitting the magnificent animal whom Belle's legs now straddle. Fire Heart's mane and tail are black as coal, and his body is a deep burnt umber with a marking resembling a flame on his chest. As Belle and Fire Heart trot through the large field laden with purple clover, Belle notices a fence by which she has always been enticed, but never had the courage to jump. Staring at the fence and the rolling hills beyond it, she notices the colors intensify as though the scenery has become a painting right before her eyes. She nudges Fire Heart's ribs with her heels as her thighs squeeze urging the great steed to move faster, leaning forward as they gallop towards the fence, her back aligns parallel with the horse, and in a stunning moment, rider and horse are airborne as one. Belle feels a tingling sensation like wet paint splashing against her as it seems they have leaped into a lush pastoral landscape..._

* * *

 **Author's Note: So we'll be jumping into the dream in the next chapter. Though I have a basic idea of where I want to go with this story and what dreams I want to include, if you have a suggestion for a dream that you'd like to read, and it works with my overall vision for the story, I may write your dream suggestion. The first dream is already written, and the chapter will be posted soon. I also will be getting back to "Shattered Souls, Mended Hearts," as I have begun writing the next chapter of that, but I wanted break from the heaviness of that subject matter to enjoy writing a bit of fluffiness too, and the RumBellers FaceBook Group 'Beautiful' Creative Project was the perfect opportunity.**

 **So what did you think of our 'Belle of the ball', or cattle auction as the case may be? Thoughts on Belle's unexpected maternal communication? Please review... Guest reviews are fine. You don't need a FFnet account; I just like to read people's thoughts on my stories.**

 **Happy Mother's Day to all those who celebrate the holiday.  
**


	2. Chapter 2

Quite far away from Belle's home, Rumplestiltskin roams his bed chambers in the Dark Castle. He typically spends very little time in bed, as he doesn't need as much sleep being the Dark One, and his dreams are always fought with regretful images of his beloved son, Baelfire sliding into the portal and the sounds of his scream, "Papa!" while Rumple held onto the dagger that kept him in this world... followed by the realization of the loss of his son and digging in the dirt in a desperate attempt to join his son. Pulling on his bedclothes, the sumptuous cloth glides over his greenish-golden sandy textured skin. He dawdles a while longer, putting off the moment when he will have to lie down to sleep and the nightmares will begin. He is taken aback by the yawn he releases that seems to consume his whole being with a profound need for sleep. Begrudgingly, he gets under the luxurious feather blanket as he huffs in annoyance that he body seems to be commanding the moment. He feels as though he is sinking deeper and deeper into the bed and his pillow, while sleep tugs him with the same determination young Bae used to every year on the day of the first snow fall... and the thought makes him smile.

* * *

…" _...and go make yourself useful, you pathetic coward," Milah shouts from their cottage as Rumplestiltskin shuts the door and adjusts the sturdy woven blanket which he's wound around his torso like an elaborate sling to carry his six month old son._

 _It is hours before dawn, and he has a cart loaded with his wares to sell at the market a couple of villages away, as well as some necessities for Baelfire while they are gone. It has become more and more obvious to Rumple that Milah can't be depended upon to care for their son while Rumple is away trying to provide a livelihood for his family. Hence he takes his wee babe with him. He would prefer not to take his son so far from home, but in order to sell anything considering his reputation as the village coward, which is wife has been more than willing to perpetuate at the local tavern she frequents, he must leave their village to do so. It is a long, arduous trip to make with his damaged ankle, but he grips the cart handle with determination that his journey will be a fruitful one._

 _Suddenly, he's at the market already in the process of selling thread, yarn and some textiles he's woven, yet he has no recollection of his trek there nor setting up his wares for sale. It is as though he instantaneously traveled from his cottage to the market, finding himself looking up at the mid-morning sun._

 _After Fire Heart seemed to literally charge through a mountain Belle finds herself at a village market. Nothing about this place is familiar to her. As she dismounts Fire Heart, her riding clothes morph into a light blue work dress with brown piping, black lacing up the front of the bodice and white blouse beneath it. A warm breeze blows, making the exposed skin of her arms tingle and tendrils of her lush hair flow in an abstract dance. She ties Fire Heart's reigns around a tree and walks into the center of the market place. Her iolite blue eyes gaze upon a man, whom she estimates is in his late-thirties or early forties, with shoulder length light brown hair. His skin is tanned from working in the sun, and he is wearing a sling with a baby. He is selling spun items, and her eyes go to his hands that have an artistic quality with long, slender fingers. His hair obscures his eyes as he is looking down at the babe in the sling, but she sees him smile, and her heart pounds. He looks up at her, and she bites her bottom lip as she has been caught staring, yet she can't look away for his gaze has revealed eyes the color of the finest honeyed-chocolate... his eyes are simply too beautiful not to indulge in._

 _Rumplestiltskin becomes aware of a radiant girl looking at him. Her eyes remind him of jewels beneath crystalline waters causing his heart stutter. He quickly reminds himself that he is married... married to a screeching shrew, but married none-the-less. Milah may care nothing for their wedding vows, but he won't dishonor the vows he made. He also adds to his internal dialogue the points that the girl looks quite young with her doll-like features, and girl as lovely as she, with her whole life ahead of her, would have no interest in a broken down man, much less be burdened by his reputation._

" _Oh look, Spindleshanks is a wet nurse now!" A tall, muscle-bound, man named Horace whose hair is tightly cropped, suddenly shouts garnering everyone's attention as he points at Rumple._

" _Please, sir, can you lower your voice. I'm just trying to provide for my family."_

" _You're the 'man who ran'... or should I say_ _ **woman**_ _from the looks of things," the man jeers even louder, smirking recalling having had Rumple's wife in the back room of the tavern a fortnight ago._

 _Rumplestiltskin realizes that he just heard the man's thoughts about his wife... how could he hear that, he questions, but then he recalls that he seemed to get here in an instant, so he accepts it as part of the strange day he is having. The revelation about his wife isn't really a surprise, but it is disheartening. The woman spends his hard earned money at the tavern, lays with whatever dog is there, and then actively participates in destroying his reputation... a reputation that impacts his ability to earn a living. Rumple's cringe matches his inward dismay. If people begin to refuse to buy from him here... he will have to travel a more distant market next time, and what if he can't find a place to sell his wares at all? "We'll starve," he frets._

 _Belle's ire has been ignited by this boorish man. He reminds her of too many man with whom she was forced to dance in order to be 'proper lady'... the men who think brutality makes a man... and contributing to a family in a nurturing, meaningful way is to be sneered at, devalued and disregarded. She wants to do something, but doesn't know what._

 _Trying to keep a firm but calm tone, as Baelfire starts to wiggle and fuss in the sling, Rumple says,"I asked you politely. Now, please leave me and my boy in peace. I have things to do."_

" _Things to do?! So does your wife, from what I've seen at the tavern," Horace says in a lewd tone. "She's quite the busy little piece of a..."_

 _ ***THWAP!***_

 _The crowd is stunned as the tomato that hit the back of Horace's head falls to the ground leaving a streak of bright red juice. Horace angrily turns from a shocked Rumplestiltskin to the crowd trying to discern the culprit of the projectile tomato. Everyone, including Belle, looks dumbfounded at this turn of events. A moment later, Belle notices her hand feels sticky. She covertly glances down at her hand and notices red juice and tomato skin under her fingernails. Without thinking she wipes it on her skirt, and she worries that she took from the produce stand without paying, but then she sees coins where the tomatoes are displayed. Her gaze hesitates for a moment taking in the view of the other food items for sale, but her attention is pulled back to the altercation between the spinner and the man, who appears to have been pelted by Belle, though she doesn't recall actually doing it._

 _Rumplestiltskin's heart pounds against his ribcage. He knows that he only reason the man isn't giving him a beating is because he is holding Baelfire, and he feels a sense of self disgust that his son in essence serves as his protection._

" _Why don't you do the_ _ **decent**_ _people here a favor and leave, you cowardly gimp! That kid's better off to starve than know you as a father," and Horace makes a guttural sound and spits at Rumple._

 _Rumple shields his son from the flying phlegm._

 _ ***CRACK!**_ _*_

 _A raw egg splatters against the back of Horace's head, leaving shell fragments in his hair, as the slimy innards of the egg oozes down his neck and under the collar of his tunic that is already stained with tomato juice having shimmering golden yellow added to his shirt's increasing palette of colors. This time the crowd erupts in raucous laughter. Belle looks at the table next to her noticing that eggs were within her reach, and there are now coins next to the remaining eggs. Now, it feels as though she recalls throwing the egg, and she smiles, glowing with satisfaction._

 _An old man shouts, "Hey, come on, say something else nasty to the spinner, so we can see what hits you next, you big dollop-head! We ain't had this much fun at the market in a dog's year!"_

 _Horace bounds toward the elder man, but the man's sons, all clearly of hardy stock, block the way. Thinking better of starting a fight that he can't possibly win, Horace shouts over his shoulder, "Fine! I'll leave. It's not like anybody will buy from the man who ran from the ogre war!"_

 _Suddenly, the laughter stops, and the crowd stares at Rumple with disapproving looks. He closes his eyes for a moment, letting out a defeated sigh, thinking,"I should have known this would happen. I should've gone farther away... now, word will get to neighboring villages, and my name will be mud there too."_

 _Belle knows sometimes it just takes one person... one person to step from the crowd and do the unexpected to make people give their assumptions a second thought. She decides she wants to buy some of his wares, but then realizes, she's not sure from where the coins for the tomato and egg came, hence she doesn't know if she has money to make the purchase. As she has the thought, she realizes her shoulder feels weighted and reaches to find a saddlebag which she doesn't recall bringing with her. Looking inside, she finds money, which brings a relieved smile to her face. While the crowd is still looking at Rumple, she says loudly, "I'd like to make a purchase from you."_

 _Rumple looks astonished, and the crowd murmurs as Belle strides confidently toward him. As she passes a cluster of women in their forties, Belle hears one woman say, "Well, he does have the finest yarn in the region," as another one says, "I'm making a birthday dress for my granddaughter, and I do need supplies." Rumple can hardly believe his eyes or his luck as the cluster of women follow behind Belle. He sighs letting out all the tension that had built up from the confrontation with Horace and thinks, "This day might not be so bad after all."_

 _Belle's iolite blue eyes scan the items presented on a table and says, "Feel free to help them first," her head nodding towards the women coming up behind her, "It might take a while for me to decide what I want."_

" _As you wish, dearie," Rumplestiltskin says, regretting that he had not made a shawl with rosettes the color of her eyes, and in that thought, an intricately made, very feminine cream colored shawl with rosettes matching her sparkling, iolite eyes appears on the table. It is just as he had envisioned, yet he has no recall of making it...then he suddenly recalls that it was on a rainy day a week ago. "But we haven't had nary a drop rain in almost a month," he thinks, then the thought fades from his mind. As he helps the older women, he can see peripherally that the girl has been drawn to the shawl after looking at other items, and her lips have formed a lovely smile._

 _The other women took a great deal of time, since as it turned out... They bought just about half the items that he had to sell. He was most grateful for that, yet like an itching in his brain, he felt a bit nervous that the girl would leave. He wanted at least a moment to thank her for so boldly announcing her intent to buy from him... had she not, his sales would not have fared nearly as well. To his surprise, as the older ladies kept finding things to buy, questions to ask, and even put in orders for items for him to make, the girl remained sometimes looking at his dwindling inventory, while holding the shawl possessively away from the ravenous shoppers, sometimes watching him interact with the women at hand, and sometimes watching the babe in his sling who he periodically soothed._

 _Just as Rumple is about to turn his attention to the girl who had been waiting so patiently as he handled the other customers, Baelfire begins to fuss and wail announcing his hunger._

" _So sorry, but..." he shrugs._

" _Not to worry, an empty belly takes precedence," she says._

 _Retrieving a bottle of goat's milk fashioned with a nipple for drinking, Rumple playfully chides his son, "My boy, you can get away with this now, because you're all cherub-cheeked and bright-eyed, but as a rule, one shouldn't make young ladies wait."_

 _Belle giggles and counters, "Don't be too stern with the precious boy... I get grumpy too when I haven't eaten," and then her stomach rumbles making her blush, "Speaking of which..."_

 _Reaching into a basket next to the stool on which Rumple is sitting, he pulls out two peaches, "Would you like one? It only seems fair as I've kept you waiting so long," he offers, then recalls that the peach trees just finished blooming days ago, yet here he is holding two perfectly ripened, well-sized peaches, as he mindlessly rubs his thumb across the fuzz._

" _Yes, I'd like that... but only if I can share what I have too," she then realizes that she's not sure that she has anything, but since whenever she'd needed something today, it just seemed to appear, she ventures to look in her saddlebag and discovers two freshly made chicken and butter sandwiches wrapped in parchment._

 _Feeling awkward sitting while she stands, Rumple is about to offer her his stool to sit upon, when he discovers a second stool that he hadn't seen before and motions for her to come around the table to join him._

 _As she rounds the table, she says, "Seeing as we are to be breaking bread together, I should introduce myself, I'm Belle," knowing that isn't the 'proper' way for her to introduce herself, but she doesn't care. The spinner in front of her doesn't seem to be judging her deportment or lack thereof, and she likes that she can be herself here._

 _Feeling a bit foolish and impolite for not thinking to introduce himself sooner, he says shyly, "I'm Rumplestiltskin... It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Miss Belle."_

 _As part of proper protocol, she would be referred to as 'Lady Belle,' but he doesn't know that, and she has no desire to correct him, as she is enjoying this quiet moment without the pretentiousness of titles. Her father is a knight, as are most of the men with whom he attempts to pair her, and between the controlling habits, pomposity and dull-as-dirt conversation, she's had more than enough of titles and the insufferable people who value them._

 _As she approaches the empty stool, Rumplestilskin tells her, "I want to thank you for speaking up when that lout tried to convince folks not to give me their patronage. It helped a lot. I don't think I would have sold anything else today or in the future at this market if it weren't for that. So thank you. You didn't have to act so bravely, and I'm most grateful for it. Consider the shawl my gift to you."_

" _You're very welcome, but your gratitude is not required. Men like that set my nerves on edge - always talking down to people. I didn't want to see that narrow-minded swine rob you... and your family..." Belle nods to Baelfire, "of your living. So I will pay for the shawl as I planned, because I admire your fine work."_

 _Before he can begin his objection to her paying for the shawl, Rumple notices a red smear on her skirt, and his mind begins to turn with curiosity. He pours some water from his canteen onto a cloth, handing it to her, "You seem to have gotten something on your skirt, lass."_

 _Blushing, setting her sandwich on the table, she takes the cloth and starts to work on the smear, "Thank you... I'm a bit clumsy."_

" _At least, it isn't egg."_

" _I think I had a better hold on that one," she says, and then startled by her unintentional admission, looks up into his eyes that hold both astonishment at the knowledge of a stranger's defense of him and mirth at the brazen manner of that defense by this girl who looks very proper and delicate. "Was it_ _ **that**_ _obvious?" she asks._

" _Perhaps not 'that' obvious, but I'm not just good with wool, but with numbers too..." he smirks, "I can put two and two together... and you just offered up the rest."_

 _Belle notices that for a moment the shyness and timidity of the man melt and give way to a bit of self-satisfaction, and it makes her smile, "Actually, dear spinner, it was_ _ **one**_ _tomato and_ _ **one**_ _egg. Mayhap, you are not as good with numbers as you think yourself," she retorts, smugly._

" _Perhaps, but I'm good enough to know you've fought for my honor more than once today. Hence, that shawl_ _ **will**_ _be gifted to you... no, arguments. ...Besides, an aim so true as yours deserves a reward."_

" _I don't recall my aim being that good before... I wonder if I just needed the proper motivation. It certainly was enjoyable, regardless. So, yes, I will graciously accept your lovely gift. Thank you, Rumplestiltskin... however, I_ _ **will**_ _make other purchases too, once lunch is through."_

 _After Rumple finished lunch and Baelfire finished his bottle, Rumple changed his son's nappy, while Belle finished her sandwich. After Rumple got his boy freshened up and held him upon his shoulder hoping to persuade a belch to come forth from the baby, a new customer arrived, a young, woman with blonde curly hair, "Please, sir, if I could have some help, I need to make my husband a sturdy set of britches, and I have some questions."_

 _At present, the woman's arrival make for awkward timing as Rumple will need both hands available to gather and prepare the supplies for the young woman. Belle notices his dilemma and says nervously, "I could... if you'd like," nodding towards Baelfire on his shoulder. Belle hasn't held babies much in her life and feels a uneasy gnawing in her stomach at the prospect, but obviously, it would help Rumplestiltskin greatly to have someone pitch in at this moment, and since his wife is not here... for whatever reason, it just seems right to Belle to offer._

 _He hesitates for a moment, as it is not his habit to hand his child off to a relative stranger, but he reasons he'll be nearby, and he feels a sense of trust for her that he doesn't understand. He hands her a towel to put over her shoulder and then cautiously passes Bae to her. Belle begins to softly pat and rub the baby's back as she witnessed Rumplestiltskin doing just minutes earlier. The boy's feathery soft, wavy brown hair tickles her cheek. She watches Rumplestiltskin interact with the young woman and listens as the young wife not only talks of the items she needs for her sewing, but of her new husband. It is obvious she married for love, not convenience, as she gushes. Belle watches his reaction and notes he's a good listener... a rare quality in a man. For a moment, she thinks of how fortunate his wife is and briefly assumes she must be quite happy with such an attentive man, but then she recalls the comments about his wife made by the boorish man. Normally, she would have dismissed the cretin's assessment of his wife, but she recalls something in Rumplestiltskin's eyes... a shame and pain that spoke louder than words that his wife was far from the dutiful type. Of course, the wriggling baby on her shoulder also raises questions about his wife's commitment to family. As she focuses more attention on the warm little being snuggled against her, weaving his pudgy fingers through her hair, she realizes how warm she feels inside... deep in her heart. In recent years, she has purposely avoided thinking about babies, as it seems as though every man with whom she comes in contact appears to be mentally appraising her possibilities as a breeder of heirs... as well as their toy to entertain them in their bedchambers. However, now, without the pressure of expectations looming over her, she finds herself having unforeseen yearnings to have a child such as Baelfire, who is quickly stealing her heart. She thinks she could be quite happy if she could marry a man as exceptional as Rumplestiltskin. Belle finds she is very glad that he is not looking at her as he helps the young woman, because Belle is blushing wildly. Finding someone like Rumplestiltskin would be highly unlikely, and he is very much spoken for, no matter whether his wife deserves him or not. Finally, Baelfire lets out a loud belch that takes them all by surprise._

" _Well done, my wee lad," says with a hint of amusement in his voice._

 _Belle laughs looking at the babe who seems rather proud of himself. She decides just for this moment to enjoy this little man in her life, rather than think of the knights her father throws at her who manage to be an obnoxious combination of foppish and brutish._

 _Once Rumple is free to give Belle his attention, she picks out some items for embroidery and sewing needs. She confesses that she has never mastered knitting well enough to make an acceptable article of clothing, though her mother had tried many times to teach her that particular skill. She still attempts it from time to time, in order to feel closer to her mother, but ultimately ends up with a frustrating, tangled mess. In between customers, he retrieves knitting needles and a roll of yarn that is the same incredible shade of blue as her eyes... this time not even mentally acknowledging that he had no memory of spinning it. He is amazed how this girl seems genuinely appreciative of his attention... He thinks, 'Surely someone as delightful as she, would get an ample amount of attention for her kindness, wit and stunning looks... she is beautiful inside and out.' He begins to refresh her memory of the basics, gently correcting her technique with his hands upon hers from time to time. It's still a bit of a challenge for her, but she looks at the endeavor in a whole new way. The looping and stitching of the yarn reminds her of how irrecoverably her mother is knitted into the fabric of her being, and thus, always with her... Belle looks at this man and his precious son, and she feels them purling their way into her heart adding texture and depth to the fabric of her life. She suddenly recalls her mother's note for her birthday and the impulse she had to sleep, on some level acknowledging this has all been a beautiful dream. Without her seeming to notice the time pass, it is now late in the afternoon, and the man with the honeyed-chocolate eyes must pack his cart for him and his adorable son to leave the market. She feels a strange sadness in her heart, as she is not ready for this to end._

 _Rumplestiltskin wonders where the time as gone. This lovely day had been the most pleasant he'd spent in quite some time. He recalls the moments that he had sneaked glances at Belle holding Baelfire, and it makes him smile thinking how nurturing she was with his wee boy. It had been so nice having someone engaging and kind with whom to talk... it had been amazing to have someone be his champion, as no one had truly been that to him before. Though their time together had been far too brief, it feels as though he has a friend. … as well as a cherished memory to fortify him in moments when Milah tries her level best to make him feel lower than a worm._

 _As their surroundings start to fade and lose color, he asks, "Will we see you again sometime, Miss Belle?"_

 _Aware that she is starting to awaken, Belle fights to hold on a moment longer and says, "I will try my utmost to make it so. Fare thee well, Rumplestiltskin and Bae." Rumple smiles revealing handsome dimples and Baelfire gurgles, while Belle tries to burn this memory into her brain forever. She never wants to forget the joy they have brought into her life today._

 _Rumplestiltskin notices a hint of sadness in her smile, as though she will miss them as much as they will her... but it's a beautiful smile none-the-less._ Blinking he sees the rise of the pillow sticking out from beneath his head, the first rays of sunlight teasing his eyes and feels the warm feather blanket upon his newly awakened body. He feels the sting of sadness, recalling Baelfire is not with him... and hasn't been for three centuries, yet a strange fluttering of gratitude for being able to feel his wee boy in his arms again... and for the wondrous day spent with the warm, enchanting girl who shared her kindness with them. Though he is certain someone as lovely as she does not exist, it's amazing to have this treasured memory, false though it may be. He can hardly fathom what it would have been like to have a friend like her in his time living with his son in the Frontlands. In his mind, he hears the shrill screech of his new protégé, Regina, beckoning him. He may have to endure her demanding machinations in the future, but today is not the day. Today... he decides is to be spend carding and dying wool the most entrancing shade of blue he's ever seen, doing his finest spinning... spinning to _remember_ and creating the very feminine cream colored shawl with iolite blue rosettes as imagined in his exquisite dream. Miss Belle may not be real, but she is to be remembered, and he is determined to do so. A wisp of a smile forms upon his lips as he stretches and gets out of bed to begin his day.

Belle awakens and her eyes shift around the room peering through the still sleepy curtain of her lashes. At the moment, her mind is at cross purposes, while her body becomes more alert to the real world around her, with her mind trying to sort out reality from dream state, part of her mind fights to hold on the blissful dream. Her conscious mind decides that she will start knitting practice as soon as her eyes are awake enough to focus... she wants to be certain not to forget what Rumplestiltskin taught her... nor lose the memory of him and Bae, thus breakfast can wait. She turns her head and spies her mother's note on her nightstand and a beaming, teary-eyed smile forms realizing that part was indeed real. She reaches for the precious communication and unrolls the scroll as she had the night before with the mystical dove sitting upon her lap. She re-reads the words, and a soft giggle escapes her lips as she reads, " _Sweet dreams, dear one."_ She reflects on the man with the beautiful eyes and his thief of a son who stole her heart. It had been the best day she had in years of her isolated, lonely life... she smiles and looks upward, "Thank you, Momma" she says in an emotion filled whisper, hoping that will not be the last day she spends with Rumplestiltskin and Baelfire. With a contented sigh, she presses her mother's note to her lips in a kiss and then to her chest, close to her heart.

* * *

 **Author's Note: Thank you to everyone to participated and continues to participate in the 'Beautiful' RumBelle creative prompt on the Facebook group that I run, RumBellers. I've posted a new prompt for fics, graphics, etc. inspired by one or any combination of the songs, "Courage" by Orianthi, "Lucky One" by Simple Plan and "Castle Walls" by Styx, Dennis DeYoung... details can be found on the group.  
**

 ** _**FYI**_ : A while back a reader of my other fics had asked me about my use of iolite to describe Belle's eyes because that's not a something they'd seen before. Though I have answered the reader directly, just in case others have the same question, I thought I'd address it here as well. When I posted my first fic here over 2 years ago, I wanted to come up with a way to describe Belle's eyes that was unique and very original, as I'd been a RumBelle reader myself and seen a lot of typical ways Belle's eyes were described. So, I originally came up with the idea to describe her has having iolite eyes, because that's the way I have always described my daughter's eyes. It's something that is personally connected to my family, as years before our daughter's birth, an iolite ring held a special meaning between my husband and myself. Iolite is a gem with metaphysical aspects and compelling lore behind it.  
**

 **BTW, the inspiration for naming the market bully Horace came from the Electric Light Orcastra song "Horace Wimp," because I've observed that bullies tend to be the biggest cowards of all.**

 **So, you woud've thunk that Belle dreams of egging people? LOL!**

 **If you have any dream suggestions, let me know, and I'll give them consideration. Yes, Belle's mother's note is why RumBelle will be sharing dreams on occasion.** **Please review... Guest reviews are fine. You don't need a FFnet account; I just like to read people's thoughts on my stories.**


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